


The Ode to the Doctor

by WhoopDoopItsMagic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, Sherlock is a smol sad gay, Sherlock is sad, he's been through a lot, kinda a letter to john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:03:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7528477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopDoopItsMagic/pseuds/WhoopDoopItsMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's ode to John.</p>
<p>it isn't real.</p>
<p>he hopes again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ode to the Doctor

When I wake up in the morning it is him that is there.  
Watching.  
Waiting.  
For the time when I eventually get up and spring to life.  
Or I seem to as such.  
You, John Watson have won all wars.  
Except one.  
The one inside my head that kills and taunts me.  
He watching me and waiting for me.  
Waiting for the first time when I think in the morning.  
He is silent.  
He is there.  
The waiting ceases when I see your image in my head.  
I can feel his hands pulsing through my bloodstream.  
Creeping and crawling towards my heart.  
They press harder and harder each time.  
Trying to stop it from beating so fast every time  
That a chemical compound is released in my brain  
Whenever I see a person who is the same gender as I.  
The questions never stop.  
In times where sexuality is questioned, yet not an embarrassment.  
I can feel him.  
Behind my eyelids.  
His fingernails scratching at my skull cap.  
Tearing it off, while pulling my brain from its place.  
Shaking me to my core and shouting  
Questions and queries that I cannot answer.  
It is when I sleep at night.  
The thoughts in my head that never quite reach the world.  
And his thoughts seep out.  
Through my ears.  
And the cracks in my eyelids.  
That is the ever knowing punishment for this.  
It's all sentiment.  
My mother says whenever she says  
I am leading away from God's path.  
There is no God.  
And the fact that the thought still turns my head into a hand grenade  
Whenever it is that I come to the realisation  
That I am a sinner.  
A sinner for feeling the rising in my chest  
Whenever I want to feel dominated.  
His breath in my throat catches me  
From saying anything to you.  
And your denial of my sexuality as yours  
Is not a helpful factor in the life that I have made for myself.  
I know that feeling.  
It is Victor pushing me up against a wall.  
It is your hands pressing onto the uniform cuts  
That are scattered with blood along my arms.  
It is the blood pounding in my head when Mycroft yells.  
"Why couldn't you just fight back?!"

So may I tell you one thing.  
As all of my feelings persist.  
The sentiment that is carried in myself  
That I feel for other men.  
The fact that it disgusts the demons  
Within the deepest and darkest  
Of the cracks and crevices of my body  
Is another sign that they are different from you.  
Because you are my infinite warrior.  
With your strong hands  
And your beautiful mind  
And your beauty in the way that you are.  
You are my man.  
Mine.


End file.
